The Sin of Wanting
by Eady of Old
Summary: Sometimes, in the face of extreme loneliness and melancholy, the mind creates a mechanism whereby a person can cope with their hopelessness. Almost physically wanting her into being, he could picture Anna in the drawing room seated next to him in his mother's chair.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **Sometimes, in the face of extreme loneliness and melancholy, the mind creates a mechanism whereby a person can cope with their hopelessness. Almost physically wanting her into being, he could picture Anna in the drawing room seated next to him in his mother's chair.

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Downton Abbey or these characters.

**A/N: The working title on this story has been 'Imaginary Anna' and you'll see why. I was thinking about the change in John between the time he left Downton to return to London with Vera and the time he moved to Kirbymooreside, ready to divorce Vera so he could marry Anna. I decided that a lot had to happen in his mind to get him from one extreme to the next considering how little things changed with his circumstances. And this story is the result. **

**Reviews, as always, are very appreciated.**

* * *

"I am _nothing_."

Her frantic sobs followed John as he walked into the night. Bearing the brunt of Lord Grantham's fury had been difficult - perhaps one of the most difficult moments of his life - but breaking Anna's heart was worse. Her desperation clawed at him, leaving bloody gashes in his psyche as he thought of what she'd said to him.

Let Vera ruin her. Live in sin. Never be happy without him. Not ever.

What a fool he had been to think he could build a life with her. He'd wanted to believe it could be possible. After four years of getting to know Anna, of slowly and surely falling in love with her, he'd hoped there might be a way for them to be together. Such a selfish wish on his part, John realized. And now he'd not only hurt Anna but brought the fury of his wife down on the entire Crawley family.

He deserved every word of disgust and disloyalty Lord Grantham had doled out to him. And he deserved to hear Anna's cries and see her tear-soaked cheeks every time he thought of her.

Truly, he was nothing. A waste of a human being. Anna was better off without him. Someday she might even realize that Vera had afforded her a lucky escape.

Shaking his head, John knew in his heart that it was not true. Anna loved in a way he sometimes had trouble comprehending - strong and pure with the utmost loyalty. She would not forget him as he'd told her to, would not find joy with someone else. And her continuing sorrow was his fault, a burden he would carry with him every day as a renewed torture.

He went with Vera the next morning, moving like a man condemned. He had to go - to protect the Crawleys, to protect Anna. The people in that house were all that mattered to him in the world, and if he had to leave in disgrace, then that was his cross to bear.

John did not look back, not until he was seated on the carriage next to Vera. He glanced once, a single look at the house rather than at any particular window. Anna would likely be dressing the girls anyway. And even if he saw her, it would not make leaving easier. He wanted to carry with him her image of how she'd looked that night in the courtyard when he'd leaned in to kiss her for the first time. But all John could see in his mind was her face full of panic as she desperately begged him not to go. The sound of her anguished sobs still rung in his ears, an indictment of his selfishness in daring to court her.

He and Vera traveled in relative silence to London. Part of him knew that he had to keep his wife somewhat happy to ensure she did not go to the papers with her story, but a different part of him had trouble caring. His life was over now. He had no job, no real home, and only a farce of a marriage to a woman he despised.

As they entered his mother's house, he was reminded of his plan to come to London to get it ready to rent out. Anna did not want to sell it. Looking around the furnished rooms, he thought of her. She had only been to see his late mother once, years earlier, but he still felt her presence in the drawing room. His mother had asked about Anna in her letters before she died. She'd encouraged him to find Vera and seek a divorce so he could marry again.

Silly dreams, he decided, putting his case away in the bedroom. There were two bedrooms in the small house, thankfully, and without saying a word, Vera took the other one - his mother's. Most of her personal effects were already gone.

"Well, I think we'll be quite comfortable here," Vera stated, flashing him a predatory smile.

"Whatever you say."

Just being in the same room with her made him long for a drink. He hadn't felt the urge to take a pull of whiskey in quite some time, but the notion of spending the rest of his life with her made him wonder if perhaps he couldn't end it sooner with drink. As though reading his mind, she said, "I don't suppose your mother kept anything around for company? Brandy, perhaps, or maybe something special? Because this is a special occasion, the two of us back together again."

She was already looking through cabinets. Unable to bring himself to mind the invasion of his mother's space, John took a seat at the table. "You know my mother didn't drink."

Whatever alcohol his mother might have once kept in her home, she'd gotten rid of years earlier. Having a drunkard of a son meant she could not have any in her home. Even if she had hidden it, he would have searched the house in an inebriated fury to find it, not caring what he broke. They'd both learned that lesson the hard way.

"Pity then," Vera intoned, turning back to him. "I'll have to go out."

She stepped towards him expectantly, her hand outstretched.

John simply shook his head. "I won't give you money for alcohol, Vera."

"You will if you want me to keep quiet about your precious Crawley family," she threatened.

But he knew her better than that. "You have a gun loaded with one bullet, Vera," he warned her. "Use it wisely."

Her eyes flashed in anger, but in the end, she went out to a pub without him. Enjoying the quiet solitude, John went to his mother's bookcase and removed a volume of poetry - something melancholy and painful to match his mood. But it sat open and unread as he ended up lost in thought.

_I'd live in sin with you._

He closed his eyes tightly against the thought of her in such a compromising position, with him… like that... Just thinking of her in such a manner was wrong, as though his lustful feelings might taint her simply by association. It was simply not right.

But he could not take his mind from her words. She'd sully herself with him, cast aside her position and her family to take up with a married man. The damage would be irreparable for a woman such as her. And yet he believed her in her willingness. Anna's love for him would guide her into ruin if he allowed it, would sink her so far beneath society that none from her former life would associate with her. She might even find happiness with him for a time. But in the end, it would mean nothing but pain and devastation for her.

And yet, he could not think of anything but her - her beautiful face and slender waist and the feel of her hand against his chest, trying to hold him back. To be with a woman such as her... to _belong _to a woman such as Anna Smith... He could fathom no words to explain the blessing that was her love for him. Nor could he describe his own shame if he accepted it.

He would be her ruin, not Vera, if he took what she offered so willingly. John might as well plunge a knife into her chest as take her as his mistress. The destruction would be much more quick and merciful.

Sometimes, in the face of extreme loneliness and melancholy, the mind creates a mechanism whereby a person can cope with their hopelessness. Sometimes it is a song or a mantra. Other times, a person might hear a loved one's voice, or see their image framed in heavenly light. But for John, it was nothing so complex as the thought of her there beside him. Almost physically wanting her into being, he could picture Anna in the drawing room seated next to him in his mother's chair. She might glance up from her mending every now and again to flash him a smile. Her expression was as tender as he remembered, a thankful reprieve from the sadness he'd left her in.

He knew she was not really there, but John missed her so much.

Wiping a tear from his eye, John abandoned the book of poetry and stood up from his seat. Crossing the room to the door, he gathered his hat and coat and walked out into the city, determined to drive thoughts of her from his mind. But his walk through the night only reinforced how very alone he was in the world now.

* * *

Her passion was only tempered by innocence. But what she lacked in experience, Anna made up for with enthusiasm and simple joy. She reveled in each touch, shivering as he ran his hands along her bare arms, shoulders, until his fingers found the soft skin at her neck. Tilting her head to the side, she slid her eyes closed as she leaned into him, lips pliant and eager to open for him as he instantly deepened their kiss.

"Mister Bates," she whispered, nearly a whimper, as his mouth moved to taste the flesh his hands had grazed a moment before.

The nightgown was simple white linen, well worn but obviously her nicest. The fabric was soft against his rough hands and thin enough that he could easily feel the warmth of her skin through the woven threads.

"Anna," he responded, humming the two syllables of her name against her skin. He could feel her hands exploring him, dipping under the hem of his undershirt. John gasped at the touch of her small fingers touching his back, his sides, anywhere she could reach. As he refocused his attention to his own exploration of her body, her hands fluttered against him like a helpless butterfly blinded by sensation.

He ached to pull off that nightgown, to see her fully in the bright lamplight of small bedroom. But John also wanted her to be ready, to enjoy the open desire in his eyes which could not be masked. If he frightened her or led her to believe any part of their coming together was a duty, he would never forgive himself. Nothing mattered but Anna, not any longer. Now that they could finally be together, he would give her only pleasure.

But they couldn't be together.

With a sinking realization, John noticed her bare left hand, devoid of any ornamentation. She did not wear his ring. She did not have his name.

She looked up with him with crystal blue eyes, so full of love despite the understanding he saw in them - he was about to end her innocence. He was about to destroy her, and for what? His own base desires? The magnetic pull that connected them and had done since almost the moment they met?

He pulled away from her with such force that he wrenched himself from the dream, Anna's face the last thing he remembered beyond the early morning ache of his body at being denied release. The bed beside him was empty and cold, Anna's image nothing more than a conjuration of his sleeping mind.

"Thank God," he muttered aloud with a shuddering breath, although the loss of her was painful.

Anna was back at Downton, safe and sound. Her reputation was intact, and she could sleep at night in a warm bed beneath a sound roof. He had not taken that from her.

* * *

He found work, although nothing as prestigious as his position as a valet. Most of his jobs were hard, requiring long hours and what tedious labor he could perform with a lame leg. But he brought home enough to support himself and Vera without having to dip into the money he'd inherited from his mother. He resolved that his wife would see not a penny of the savings that woman had spent her life accumulating.

Living with Vera was like stepping into the past. She was unchanged, her ways and habits as cruel and unpredictable as he remembered. Sometimes she smiled at him and conversed amicably. But often she would made biting remarks at his expense, demand money or alcohol or other things he would not give her.

After a week, she suggested that they sleep at night in the same bed.

"Absolutely not," John responded.

"You might as well," she pointed out. "I am your wife. I doubt your little tart in the country would ever warm your bed."

She often made snide comments about Anna, and he let them go despite the way they made his blood boil. Vera had no right to speak of her that way, not when the young blond woman was so much better and so much more to him than his wife had ever been. But Vera wanted a reaction from him, he knew, so John denied it to her.

When he was at the house, he engaged in the domestic chores his mother had done when she was alive. He dusted and tied, washed dishes and did laundry - all the things Vera refused to do as she insisted that he hire a woman.

"I am not made of money," he told her.

"You have plenty set aside from your mother."

"And you can have as much of that as you like as soon as you grant me the divorce."

Her eyes flashed every time he suggested it. For whatever reason, Vera refused to even consider an official severance of their marriage. But she did not let it stop her from going out every night to the pubs, sometimes not coming home until the next day.

John no longer cared what she did. Instead, he spent his quiet hours in his mother's parlor, drinking tea and reading. He often imagined Anna with him. He could see her smile as he told her about some amusing parts of his day, just as he'd done when he lived at Downton. She would laugh and tease him, her brightness lighting even the darkest of his days.

"I wonder where she is when she spends nights away?" his imaginary Anna asked him one night, the first time she'd really spoken out loud in the weeks since he'd moved to London.

Her voice did not surprise him. Rather, it was a welcome respite from the loneliness of being without her.

"I don't know. I suppose she stays at the pub until it closes and then goes home with... someone."

Anna frowned in hurt at his assessment, hurt for him. But John was beyond caring about Vera and her wild ways. He did not love her, and any physical wandering on her part was a drop in the bucket compared to his love for Anna. If only he could make Vera see sense in the divorce, they could both be free to pursue those they truly wished.

Anna said, "But officially, you're still married. She's being unfaithful to you."

"It doesn't matter to me."

"Yes, but it could be grounds for divorce, couldn't it?"

Her question penetrated his mind so fully that when he looked up from his book, she was gone, the vision of her that he'd conjured popped like a soap bubble.

But she had made a good point.

* * *

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Glad this story resonates with some of ya'll. Thank you for the reviews and responses! I appreciate the feedback.**

* * *

John found quiet delight in spending some of his mother's money on a retainer for a solicitor who specialized in such matters. The lawyer nodded slowly as he explained his situation, about Vera and even Anna, laying everything out on the table. The solicitor, a Mr. Hinchcliffe, gave no sign of being scandalized by the information that John wished to leave his wife so he could marry a young housemaid from the country. When boiled down, his situation was not so very unique. A man of his social stature having the funds to finance such a venture was unusual.

After some consideration, the solicitor advised, "If she refuses to cooperate, you will have to find proof of grounds for divorce. While there are some other options, I believe infidelity is your best option, if you can find evidence of it."

Snorting in amusement, John said, "That shouldn't be a problem."

"You'd be surprised, Mister Bates. But once you have found the evidence, you will have to leave the home to prove it has broken your marriage."

Annoyed, he pointed out, "Our marriage is broken now. And it is my house; I inherited it from my mother. Can I not throw her out?"

Mr. Hinchcliffe frowned at him. "The court would look unfavorably on that, even if you are a wronged man. While I understand that this is no longer a real marriage to you, the court still views it as a sacred institution not to be dismissed lightly."

"No, I understand," John said with an impatient sigh. "I suppose I am simply ready for it to be done with. Besides, there are other considerations with Vera."

"What considerations?"

He hesitated for a moment but was reminded that the lawyer was required to keep his secrets. It would be better to be open with him.

"She has information she's threatened to go public with, information damaging to my former employer. That is how she forced me to return to London with her."

The solicitor raised his eyebrows, nodding thoughtfully. "Quite a specimen of humanity, your wife, Mister Bates. And how do you propose to keep her quiet while simultaneously divorcing her?"

"I hope to pay her off."

"For the information only, I assume," Mr. Hinchcliffe said severely. "You cannot pay her for a divorce. The court does not allow for collusion, nor can you both be at fault. Only one of you may guilty. If you are going to allege adultery, then there must be no evidence on your part. You had mentioned a Yorkshire housemaid …"

John shook his head. "I am guilty of unfaithfulness in my heart alone, not in body." At the solicitor's raised eyebrow indicating skepticism, he said, "I would never do that to Anna."

Hinchcliffe nodded. "Did your wife bring any assets to the marriage?"

Vera had brought nothing into their marriage and had rarely contributed to it, preferring instead to live off his salary from the army while he was away and only bothering to find herself work when she wanted extra funds. The time he'd spent laid up after his return from Africa, his knee a wreck, she'd spent every moment during those months berating him for his uselessness, blaming him for their circumstances. At the sight of his injury, she turned away in disgust, refusing to go near him. The passion which had been the only saving grace of their early years of marriage vanished entirely. She made it known that he was no longer a man to her but a disappointment and a failure.

"No," John answered slowly, "and while she deserves to leave with none, I would give her everything just to be free of her."

Hinchcliffe said thoughtfully, "Mister Bates, you must either hate your wife very much or love this woman very much, to go through this difficult process. But I will see what we can do for you."

* * *

John rarely imagined her in her night gown, not when he was somewhere other than the bedroom. Even in the kitchen or parlor of his mother's house, his imagination kept him on the straight and narrow. But at night when he retired to bed, the lamp on his bedside stand casting a glow in the darkness, he saw her as he'd done so long ago when he had brought the tray of food to the female servants' door - her hair down and free, a shawl was wrapped around her shoulders.

Anna had looked so beautiful that night, even if she had been ill.

_I'd live in sin with you._

The offer was unworthy of her and John degraded her by even considering it. He'd spoken too soon about them marrying, before he was free to court her openly. And his desire for her had been twisted into something untoward and ugly in an effort to make him stay. That he might use Anna like that... That she might _let _him... John shook his head in anguish just thinking of it.

He wanted to believe she was naive and blinded by her feelings, that she would never truly consider doing such a thing. But he saw it in her eyes that night - her desperation. Anna was so much better off without him there continuing to interrupt and complicate her life. How could she not appreciate that? How could a woman of her caliber have such strong feelings for _him _that she'd give up everything?

_The only ruin I recognize is to be without you._

Her words pricked at him like tiny needles, pulling at him with pain both shallow and deep. John had left her with no such assurances of his love. And he ha left her. He had walked away as she sobbed openly behind him, their dreams shattered around her on the ground of the courtyard. The hurt he'd caused was unforgivable. And yet, he knew she would forgive him if he went back to her. He knew it as surely as he knew he was unworthy of her forgiveness.

The night after he'd met with the solicitor, John dreamed of her again.

Each faint touch of her fingers on his skin was like fire, damning and destructive. Her lips met his in the barest hint of a kiss, causing a cascade of sensations through his body. He needed to halt her touches, but he could not push her away. He could not ask her to stop, to save her from herself.

"I love you, Mister Bates," she whispered, her voice strong but wary of rejection, the way it had been on the road that day as they walked to the flower show. Her body pressed against him, her slight weight enough to paralyze him with want.

"Anna, you know..."

He could not say it, had never been able to say it, not even when she accepted the inadequate words he'd offered to her as a proposal. Anna knew how he felt about her, could read between the lines of what he did not say. But he'd never spoken aloud of his feelings. It was a fresh regret to match all his others.

Her lips were on his neck, a pleasant distraction, driving all thoughts from his mind. And when she began to hum softly, John was left undone. Unable to move, to breath, to even gasp, he laid still and quiet, enjoying her kisses against his skin. John was unable to stop her, a weak man in a weak body who had longed for such romantic affection all his life.

"My Batesy..."

The voice broke him from the dream. Not Anna, not her voice at all. This one spoke harshly, with a detached growl that only intimated at true desire.

Wrenched suddenly from the fuzzy comfort of his dream, John looked down and noticed that a woman was indeed in his bed and pressed up against him. But the woman was not Anna.

"Vera," he seethed, pushing her away. He rubbed at his neck as he got out of the bed; he could still feel the warmth of where her lips had been. Not Anna's lips, but hers.

"Don't be that way, darling," she drawled sweetly. John saw that she wore a fancy low-cut gown, the sort of thing he would have considered more for a fine lady than his wife. He much preferred the pure simplicity of Anna's plain white nightgown. Flashing him one of her classic, charming smiles, Vera added, "We both know you were enjoying it."

The dream had left him with a humiliating level of arousal, but John ignored it.

"Get out of my room," he ordered her. "And don't you ever come in here again."

"But you're my husband. I mustn't shirk my wifely duties."

Shaking his head, John told her, "We are married in name only. Were it within my power, I would eliminate our God-forsaken marriage from the annals of history."

Her brow knitted together in real hurt. Once, such an expression would have given him pause, to cause this woman pain. He always regretted it when the drink had left his voice and temper sharp, causing her to lash out at him in return. But after spending two years in prison for her crime, after she had torn him from Downton, the only happiness he had found in life since the army, he realized that he no longer had an ounce of love left in him for her. She truly meant nothing to him.

"You don't love me, Vera. You never did. I went to prison for you. What more do you want from me? Do you want a pound of my flesh? I will give it to you, gladly, if you just let me go."

Vera glared at him for a moment before stating, "You can't give me what I want, Johnny. You never could. Even now, you are such a disappointment. And you have the nerve to try and leave me for some young trollop?"

Getting up from the bed, she stalked out of the room, casting one more look full of hatred over her shoulder as she said, "And you'll have your divorce only over my dead body."

John shut the door behind her and locked it.

* * *

He clamped down on his daydreams after that night. He pretended not to see the shadow of Anna that followed him to work in the morning and home in the evening. He looked away from her clear blue eyes when they stared at him across the kitchen when he boiled water for afternoon tea. When he heard her humming over some bit of imaginary mending, he tried not to focus on the haunting tune, or how vivid and real she sounded.

She seemed so real sometimes that John thought he might have gone mad.

After weeks of the same - her image staying by his side and him ignoring her - one night, he finally broke. Vera was out, likely at a pub. His Anna, the ghost of the woman he'd known and loved at Downton, was especially clear to him that evening. Instead of appearing to him in her usual housemaid's uniform, she was dressed in her night gown, hair pulled from its braid to cascade in soft waves down her back. Just the sight of her in such a state of undress left him undone with need.

Did she have any notion of what she did to him, when she looked that way?

"You should follow her," Anna advised boldly. "Follow her to the pub and find out who she goes home with."

He did not need to ask why. The solicitor had already told him that he needed proof of Vera's infidelity. John could find the proof he needed if he went after her, if he found witnesses and individuals willing to sign sworn affidavits of her exploits. Of course, the sort of men Vera spent time with were not the type to involve themselves in legal matters. And a judge would not believe his word alone.

"I'm not saying it will be easy," she said gently. The ghost spoke with Anna's confidence and her strength. He could not help but look at her. "But you do have to try."

"You are better off without me," John told her. It was the first time he'd responded to her visage since the night of his dream and Vera's failed seduction. He knew it wasn't Anna, not really, but in his loneliness, he so longed for it to be her.

She shook her head at his statement. "You know that isn't true."

"I don't know that. What I know is that I've caused you-" He stopped suddenly, interrupting himself, "I've caused _her_ pain - a great deal of pain and none of it deserved."

Anna stared back at him, a challenge in her eyes. "But I love you, Mister Bates," she said. "And I will never love another the way I love you."

The statement was as absurd at that moment as it was when Anna said she could never be happy without him. She was too good to waste her life pining for the likes of him. He hoped – no, he truly believed – that she would move on, some day. She deserved love and happiness in her life, and he would be selfish to deny her such things by trapping her in a relationship with him.

"Now who's speaking untruths?"

He fired off the question in irritation, but he instantly regretted it. In the blink of an eye, the blonde vision that looked like Anna was gone, the space in which she'd stood an instant before was suddenly empty. The room felt cold and lonely without her.

* * *

John continued in the same manner for weeks and weeks, going to work each day and returning home again. He bought food from the market and cooked his own meals. He took care of the house, making repairs as he found them and otherwise preparing it to eventually be rented out or sold. And he saved, as much as he could on a reduced salary. Mostly he worked to keep his mother's inheritance intact, in case he could use it to pay off Vera.

The Anna his mind had conjured appeared to him often, although he barely acknowledged her presence. She wore different clothes - usually her maid's uniforms, although sometimes a dress with gloves and a hat, or still on very rare occasions, her night gown. And when Vera was not around, she spoke to him. She encouraged him, smiled in earnest, and conversed with him about his day.

Anna never berated him. She never spoke of disappointments or sadness or grief. He sometimes wished she would, considering that she had more right to hate him than perhaps even Vera. While he'd never intended to use her so horribly, he had done so nevertheless. And he deserved to feel whatever wrath she might lay at his feet.

"You think I would berate you?" she asked him, as though reading his thoughts. But of course she could read his mind; she was a figment of his imagination. "How could I knowingly cause you pain?"

"I hurt you," John responded aloud. Grimacing at his pronoun, he corrected himself, "Her. I hurt her. I left her sobbing with grief."

"Because you went away," Anna said, "not because you intended to hurt me."

"What do intentions matter if the outcome is the same? I never intended to use her or lead her on, but what I did amounts to the same. I had no right to let her believe we might have a future together."

She stared at him, her head inclined slightly to the side, studying him closely before answering. "We will be together, Mister Bates," she informed him.

"How can you believe that? With Vera holding me hostage..."

"I believe it because it is true. And your wife isn't the impediment here. You know I would go with you even without the divorce."

Her statement angered him, partially because he knew the words had to come from somewhere deep within _him_. Forcefully, he spat, "Don't say that. Not again. You would never live in sin with me; I wouldn't allow it."

"And why not?" she appealed, moving closer but not touching him. "We love each other. What could matter more than that?"

He took in a deep breath before answering, his emotions swinging wildly out of control. "_You _matter more than that. Your life and reputation. Your job..."

Vera could destroy her, utterly and completely. If the story about the Turkish diplomat came out, not only would she be ruined, but the Crawleys may even be forced to release her from service. She'd never find another decent position and would be forced to find other, lesser work outside of service. She could be reduced to factory work or worse.

"All I want is to be with you, Mister Bates. I have no care for the rest."

John shook his head. "You should care."

Behind him, he heard the front door begin to open and he whirled around to see Vera entering the house. When he looked back at the image of Anna he'd been speaking to, she'd disappeared.

"Did I hear you talking to someone?" his wife demanded suspiciously.

He did not bother looking back at Vera.

"Just myself," he said sadly, the truth of his words hitting him with an undeniable force.

* * *

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks to everyone for the reviews and kind words. **

* * *

He lucked into a position at a pub near the house, and the job filled his evenings. The work was not hard, although the long hours of standing with few breaks left his knee stiff and aching. Bates thought he might have trouble working with alcohol after having given it up, but it turned out to be easier than he suspected. And at first, Vera was elated by what she viewed to be good fortune. However, when John made it clear that he would not serve her free drinks, she quickly grew cross and cold to him once more.

But she still came to the pub. She delighted in flirting with other men in front of him and enticing them to buy her the drinks her husband refused to supply. While her behavior was humiliating, as she made sure to tell the other patrons that he was her husband, John took great pains to ignore her. Vera thought she was torturing him, making his refusal of her that much more difficult to bear. But in truth, he had no wish to be with her. He felt no jealousy as she flaunted herself at strangers and occasionally left with one of them. Rather than succumbing to the humiliation, he took mental notes and kept calculated records. He made friends with a fellow bartender and had him keep tabs on Vera as well.

Time passed at an alarmingly slow rate. His vision of Anna appeared to him periodically but never when he was at the pub. He was glad of that at least. He could not stand to see her there, surrounded by working men and women like Vera who cared nothing for their reputations or the lives of others they might be destroying with wanton behavior.

And then, one day, after a number of weeks, a man appeared at the pub. He was better dressed than the typical working man, perhaps a shop keeper or even a clerk. He held his hat in his hands, and twisted it continually, as though channeling his worry into its brim. The man approached John tentatively, and there was real fear in his eyes.

"What can I get you?" he asked the man automatically.

"Actually... I wanted to talk. I heard from one of the fellows that this woman I met the other night, that she's actually your wife."

John nodded, beginning to understand. The fear he saw was actually guilt. The guilty man at the bar had come to face him and own up to something.

"Vera is my wife," he carefully confirmed.

"See, I didn't know she was married," the man stuttered. He had begun to shake. "She didn't wear a ring, and she didn't say nothing about having no husband, neither."

He snorted in amusement. "That sounds like Vera."

"But see, I don't want to make no trouble. As soon as I found out, I wanted to come over and make things right, if I can."

With a look of bemusement, John asked blandly, "And how do you plan to make things right, if I may ask?"

The man twisted his hat uncomfortably. "Well... now, I..."

"You are admitting that you've been with my wife, are you not?" he questioned further.

He dipped his head in clear shame. "I am, sir."

Staring at him for an uncomfortably long time, John finally inquired, "And would you be willing to make that admission in writing?"

"Uh... what do you mean, in writing?"

"You see, if you want my absolution, and I suspect that you do, that's the only way I can have it. I need you to admit in an affidavit that Vera was with you. It has nothing to do with you, of course," he assured the hat-twister. "But I need your admission to prove Vera was unfaithful."

He waited, hoping he had not spooked the remorseful man with talk of legal papers, but this was just the opportunity he'd been seeking. Along with his notes and those of his fellow bartender, this might be the evidence he needed to give to the solicitor for a divorce from Vera.

Finally, after much hesitation, the man said, "If that's what'll make things right, then I'll do it, surely. I'm not married yet, but I have a sweetheart. And I know how I'd feel if she was stepping out on me."

They struck an accord readily enough, and within the hour, John had his affidavit with the signature of several witnesses.

* * *

"You have what you need."

She said the words with such surety, as though it were the moment she'd been waiting for after so many weeks. Her smile was one of relief, long overdue for some good news.

"Even if I succeed in the divorce," John said, "she could still destroy you."

Just filing the paperwork might stir Vera into an angry frenzy. He hoped that when he took away the roof over her head, she might be more willing to bargain with him regarding the story of the Turkish diplomat.

The image of Anna shook her head. "You know I don't care about that."

"You pretend you don't, but I do," he countered.

While she might profess to sacrifice her reputation for a chance at a life with him, John knew better. What she would give up in the emotion-filled moments of youthful indulgence was not the same as love, and he would be a lecherous, dishonorable man to let her. No, what Anna needed was someone to keep her safe, both socially and physically, until she could see sense in such matters.

"I've told you - I'd live in sin with you. Whatever she says does not matter to me."

The words his stubborn vision of her espoused bothered him, made him angry and desperate both. "It does matter," he stated strongly.

She rounded on him, and in an instant, her black maid's uniform shifted into a Sunday dress complete with form-fitting coat, a matching hat, and black gloves. She frowned at him severely, her expression silently chastising for not only the way he'd spoken, but his stiff principles.

"You are the only thing in this life that matters to me," Anna informed him boldly. "If you would only listen and believe me."

He sighed, the pain in her voice unbearable to him. "I am listening," he told her gently. "But what you're suggesting... it is wrong for you, for both of us. I could not take advantage of you like that and still live with myself."

"Quite the contrary," she shot back, her voice surprisingly steady for the emotions it contained. "I have taken advantage of you. I'm stealing you from your lawful wife to have you as my own."

"You cannot steal what already belongs to you."

His heart, at least, would always be hers. He could not wish otherwise, not even if he never set eyes on her again.

"Nor could I ever be ruined by how I feel for you," Anna told him.

He turned to look at her, the truth in her statement finally hitting home, but she was gone. But Vera returned home a few moments later and he could not regret the loss of his vision of Anna for too long.

His wife's face was a thundercloud, dark and foreboding.

"I hear you've been speaking to people at the pub," she accused.

He met her fiery eyes and confirmed, "They have interesting things to say."

"They'll have more interesting things to say about the Crawley family if you don't watch yourself," Vera warned him severely. "And not just folks down at the pub. It'll be the talk of all London - Lady Mary Crawley fornicating with a Turkish diplomat to the point that he died in her bed. And who knows, maybe she wasn't the only one? Maybe her maid helped her with more than just carrying the body back to his room. Maybe she-"

"Enough!" he shouted, his blood boiling with fury. He'd never hit her, not in all the time they were married, but this time, he could barely resist the urge. It was what she wanted, after all, proof of abuse to use against him. And the solicitor had told him there could be no divorce if both parties were guilty. He would not play into her hand again.

"Oh, I shouldn't blame your precious Anna," she continued on, undeterred. "It is just part of the job, serving her masters. Surely even you know what Lords and maids get up to in those big houses. Don't think Lord Grantham hasn't had his taste of her from time to time."

He stared at her in abject horror that she would even suggest such a thing. "You have no concept of how people really are, do you?" he asked, shaking his head even as he forced his fists to unclench. "You only believe the worst."

"And you're a fool."

She turned on him and marched into her room, slamming the door shut behind her. John stared after her, willing his mind away from the suggestions she had planted. Anna would never do such a thing, he knew, nor would his Lordship. And yet, were she in another house... He had heard of such things happening, of young women in service meddled with by their employers or guests. And there was a reason the door between the men's and women's sides of the servant's hall was kept locked at all times.

The thought of Anna in such a situation riled him. He wasn't there to keep watch, to protect her. He had come to London with Vera to shield her reputation, but what if she needed him there? What if beyond her love and desire to have him in her life, she genuinely had need of his presence? Even if they could not be together, if he had nothing of genuine worth to offer her, just being in the same house might give her some reassurance, surely.

"I need you, not your protection."

Her voice startled him, as though she'd been hiding behind a curtain during his conversation with Vera rather than vanishing like a figment of his imagination.

"How can you believe that?" he asked quietly, dropping his voice so his wife could not hear him through the walls of the house. "When I've brought you nothing but pain..."

"I believe it because it is true. Have you ever known me to lie to you?"

"Anna..."

She had never touched him outside of his dreams, this vision of Anna he could not shake from his mind. While he conjured her image and her voice, he could not replicate the feel of her or her warmth. So she never reached out for him.

But on this occasion she did. She put a single finger to his lips, silencing him. His skin tingled at the sensation with a vivid memory of Anna's lips from their real kiss - the one and only kiss they had shared. John could not make himself feel guilty for the liberty he'd taken, even if it meant he'd compromised Anna's honor in some small way. The thought of her looking so miraculously happy as they discussed plans for their future was the only image that could keep at bay her devastation when he'd left her.

"You know I'd forgive you if you returned, Mister Bates," she ventured. "You know I meant it when I said I could never forget you, that I could never be happy without you."

He sighed and closed his eyes, no longer able to give voice to the feelings building within him, weighing him down and blackening his mood. Anna was not truly there, was not speaking to him such words of love and commitment. Rather, she was back at Downton, hopefully healing from the invisible wounds he'd inflicted on her.

When he opened his eyes again, the ghost of Anna was gone.

* * *

"It is enough to begin the process," Hinchcliffe assessed, reading through his notes and the affidavit he'd procured. "Now the next step will be for you to leave the marital home."

"But it is my house," John protested. "Why should I have to leave?"

"You must demonstrate that this 'news' of your wife's affair has broken your marriage. If you stay in the home, she could argue to the court that you are attempting to work things out. The court will not be inclined to grant a divorce to man who is still living with his wife."

He nodded, suddenly lost in thought as to where he could go. He still had some money, but he would need work.

"I have a friend in Yorkshire who might be able to find me a job temporarily," he said aloud. "He works at a public house."

Disinterestedly, Hinchcliffe informed him, "Just let me know of your updated address so I can inform you of the progress of your case. Good luck, Mister Bates."

The walk home form the solicitor's office left him reeling with the possibility that he might actually be able to obtain a divorce from Vera. In the months since moving to London, he had not allowed himself to hope, not really. He resisted it as steadfastly as he did the beautiful vision of the blonde woman who followed him like his very own Jacob Marley. But instead of chains and locks, she carried only the weight of sadness he'd tied to her.

"You should come back to Downton," his imaginary shadow suggested. She kept pace with him as he took slow strides on the sidewalk, moving aside for the people who could not see her.

"You know I can't," Bates reminded her quietly, keeping his voice down so others would not hear him speaking to himself. "And not just because of you."

"I'm sure if you explained to his Lordship-"

"And how could I explain it?" he interrupted. "How could I ever tell him that such a scurrilous rumor was being spread about his daughter by my wife, true or not? No, I am responsible for this."

Anna seemed pensive. He glanced at her as he walked. "What is it?" he asked.

"You don't believe what Vera implied about me, do you?"

He sighed softly. "I believe you likely helped Lady Mary move the body. He would have been too heavy for one person, perhaps even for both of you. But as for the rest... no, not a word of it. Vera is mean and vindictive. She'd say anything to try and turn me against you."

The vision at his side frowned severely. "But she's already done that, hasn't she? She took you away."

"Only my body," he assured her. Unable to contain his feelings, he revealed, "My heart remains with you, wherever you are."

It was the first time he'd spoken aloud his feelings for Anna, even if the woman next to him was not really her.

She smiled at him in delight. "Then perhaps it is time for you to rejoin your heart," she suggested.

* * *

John packed his things when Vera was out. He did not have a lot to take with him. While he regretted leaving his mother's house in his wife's possession, there was nothing to be done for it. The furniture and other items were of little enough value, although he assumed she would destroy or sell what she could once she discovered him gone. He made certain to take with him the keepsakes and photos his mother would have wanted him to have.

As he stepped on the train bound for Yorkshire, he re-read the letter from his friend. Working as a bartender in London had given him the experience for the position at the pub in Kirbymooreside, even if standing all day did terrible things to his leg. But Kirbymooreside was the perfect place - small enough to disappear, but not so small as to appear out of place. And it was close to Downton without being so close that he might be easily discovered.

"So you won't write and tell me you're coming?" she asked, taking the seat next to him on the train. She seemed out of place, appearing in her maid's uniform rather than her traveling clothes. But he enjoyed the glimpse of her golden hair under her white cap by the sunlight pouring through the train window.

"I'd rather have the divorce with Vera settled first," he answered her.

"Why? You know it doesn't matter to me."

He afforded her a kind-hearted smile. Of course it wouldn't. "But it matters to me. I've been gone for months, Anna, and only to return with still nothing to offer...? And besides, I can't come back with things between his Lordship and I still at an impasse."

"But how can he know you left for his family's sake if you don't tell him?"

Bates observed, "Some sacrifices are better left unspoken."

"And what of the sacrifice you forced me to make?"

Her words hit him with stinging force, like the slap of a woman's hand. He suddenly wondered if Anna would strike him if he turned up at Downton trying to seek her out. She would have every right, of course. Vera had slapped him several times over the course of their marriage for lesser grievances.

"You really think I would hurt you?" the imaginary woman beside him asked, her tone betraying the insult she felt over his internal musings.

"I hurt you," he reminded her. "I left you behind, made you believe I was returning to my wife. I didn't even tell you why."

She knew he'd been lying to her as she confronted him in the courtyard. Of course she knew. But saying the words she felt was different from hearing him say them.

"I knew you were doing it for me, that Vera had threatened you somehow to make you leave."

He shook his head. "And you've had months to wonder if that is true. You may have already decided that I used you unjustly, that you made a lucky escape. You may have even found someone else. If that were the case, I'd not risk interrupting your life again."

A cold chill ran across every inch of his skin as he considered the possibility. John knew that Mr. Molesley was keen on her, and there were likely others. She might wait for him for a time, her heart not so easily shifted, but how long would he expect her to wait? He held no claim on her. And he did want her to be happy. Beyond any thought of his own future, he wanted her to be as deliriously happy as she'd looked that night when they were making plans for their future together, even if her future was with someone else.

She quirked an eyebrow at him, not in irritation, but in exasperation. "Do you really believe I'd profess to love you and turn around a few months later and fall into the arms of another man?"

"I wouldn't blame you. You have every right, Anna." He cringed as he said her name. The figment before him was not a real flesh and blood person, he kept reminding himself. The real Anna was far away, although with each passing second, the train brought him closer to her.

The vision looked at him, her expression blank. "I suppose you won't know until you find out for yourself."

He was quiet for a long moment as he looked out the window, taking in the English countryside. Finally, he said with quiet misery, "Maybe I'm afraid to find out."

But when he looked back at the seat beside him, he was alone once again.

* * *

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I appreciate those of you who've been following this story and leaving reviews. Ya'll are the best!**

* * *

His work at the pub in Kirbymooreside was more sedate than it had been in London, the customers coming in at regular intervals rather than all in a bunch in the evening hours. While his room in a nearby boarding house was small, the air felt lighter in Yorkshire than it did in London, and in his free time Bates walked about the village and countryside.

He was so close to Anna and Downton - just a bus ride away. John thought about making the trip over to the village on an afternoon and to see if Anna walked through on an errand. The prospect of speaking to her again both frightened and exhilarated him. How would she react? What would she say? Surely, she must hate him for walking out the way he did. Or if she did not hate him, as his vision of her repeatedly assured him, then she would be angry and sad. He almost could not bear to see her that way.

Perhaps if he did go to the village, he would not need to confront her, just wait for an hour or so in an inconspicuous spot to see if she still went about her usual routine. He might only see her for a second or two but that would be enough - a few sips of water for a man dying of thirst.

Waiting until after the divorce was finalized would be preferable, he knew. But his solicitor had written to tell him that it would take months to push through the court. Bates was not sure if he could wait that long. In London, she'd been so far away. But up here, with naught but miles of good road separating them, the urge to see her was even greater.

"What's stopping you?"

Her voice was light and whimsical, even ethereal in an otherwise harsh and disappointing world.

"You know."

"I think you're scared to be happy," she said. "You're afraid that you've been punishing yourself all these years unjustly. After all, if I can see the good in you, you can't be so bad as you've thought."

She knew him better than he knew himself. Through her, he could see not only his flaws, but the bright spots in his dark past. He could almost believe that even if he was never really worthy of her, he might be _enough_ for her. Almost.

John closed his eyes in a futile attempt to block out her penetrating insights to his deepest fears. "And what if you are wrong?" he sent back. "What if you do go through with it, marry me ,and we settle down. Only you discovers that I'm not what you really want. What if you've built up this concept of me in your head that I could not possibly live up to?"

Anna gave him a pointed look. "Do you really think so little of me? I'm not a foolhardy girl to be swept off my feet by the first man who shows me a bit of attention."

"Aren't you?" Bates asked. "Don't you remember what you said? Only a foolhardy girl would offer such a thing."

_I'd live in sin with you._

She shook her head at him, obviously disappointed in his assessment.

"Maybe I love you that much."

"You love me enough to let me ruin you?" he demanded, growing angry - both with himself and this image of the woman he could not get out of his head.

He'd rather believe Anna was swept up in her romantic notions of him than think she would ever sacrifice herself in such a way. Not for him, at least. He was not some tragic hero in a novel or play. He was a real man, deeply flawed and mired in a past he could never leave behind. Pulling her into his life was dishonorable at best, even if he could marry her properly, and wholly repugnant if he attempted it without that sacred institution.

"I told you – my only ruin is being without you. I don't care about the rest."

Swallowing painfully, John responded, "I wouldn't be worthy of your love if I did that to you. I'm not worthy now, but..."

He trailed off, unwilling to admit aloud the fullness of his thoughts. But his imaginary Anna, the one conjured by his conscious or unconscious mind, knew.

"You want her anyway."

And for the first time, hearing this figment of his imagination referring to Anna in the third person, he realized why he'd been speaking to her for so many months, why he could see her while he knew no one else could.

He did want her.

He wanted her past reason. He wanted her for himself, as his wife and his lover and the love he never thought he'd find in life. And having voluntarily lived the past few months without her, he knew that his life was pointless without Anna Smith in it. His existence was a sham, and if she even felt half as strongly about him as he did about her, perhaps they had a chance together.

"It's selfish, but I do want her," he said, the painful truth coming deep inside him. "More than I have any right to."

She smiled at him gently, kindly.

"It isn't selfish. It is very human. And she wants you just as much, so what is the harm?"

John let out a rasping breath. He could not look at the image of the woman beside him, not when she had Anna's face and stared at him with Anna's eyes so full of love and acceptance. "I could cause her so much harm in this, I can't even imagine..."

"You're hurting her by staying away."

"It seems like no matter what I do, I will hurt her."

His vision of Anna went silent for a time. He looked over to see if she had disappeared again, but she just stood there, staring off into the distance.

"Perhaps you should see her," she suggested. "You've been thinking about it since you got here. Take a bus over one Wednesday and see if you can catch a glimpse of her. She used to go to the village on Wednesdays, didn't she?"

"She did," John confirmed. He'd walked with her on more than one occasion as they ran errands for their employers. Anna had delighted in those walks, slowing her pace to match his as she chatted amicably about whatever moved her, content with his long silences as he simply enjoyed her company.

"Tomorrow's Wednesday. You're due for a day off anyway. What's stopping you besides your own fears?"

He could not answer. Indeed, what would it hurt if he just tried to catch a quick look at Anna while she was in the village? He could take the bus over in the morning and be back within a few hours. He likely wouldn't see her, and even if he did see her - really saw her, and not just the specter his mind had conjured all these months - it would satisfy him until he could get the divorce.

"Perhaps I will," John stated.

* * *

He bought stamps in the village post office, just to lend his trip some legitimacy. No one remembered him as he'd gone in so infrequently while working in Downton. Besides, months had passed since he'd left, and with the country at war, a man with a cane stood out less than he might have before.

He waited beside a large tree in the center of the village and pulled out a book to pass the time. But John quickly found that he could not concentrate on the words. Each time he tried to read, his thoughts would distract him and he'd look up, wondering if a woman in the distance was her.

Longingly, he thought of his imaginary Anna, who had kept him company for so many months in London. She stayed conspicuously absent from his vision even though he craved her words of reassurance. Surely, she would tell him that he was doing the right thing, that this was not an invasion of Anna's privacy. After all, he had no right to look at her, even from afar, after what he'd done, not when he still had no solid future to offer.

Her offer of living in sin still flitted at the edge of his consciousness like an annoying gnat. While he could never do it, he thought about what he would do if the divorce from Vera failed. Ruining Anna was not an option, but how could he truly live without her, especially if she still wanted to be with him? Perhaps she had no wish to be with him now, having left her so abruptly.

About the time he expected to see Anna walking down the road from Downton, his resurfaced doubts began to scream at him that he should abandon his plan entirely and just leave. What if she did not come? His disappointment would be a just punishment, but it would be far worse if she did appear and spotted him.

God, what if she saw him? What if she confronted him?

He was not prepared to explain himself to her, to beg her forgiveness and promise all the things he so desperately wanted. This was a mistake. Thankfully, the next bus had arrived and was pulled to a stop in the street to allow passengers to disembark. Bates was about to make his way to it when-

For a moment, everything seemed to stop. John had read about such moments in books, but he'd never experienced one before. Anna looked beautiful - as young and fair as he remembered. Even at a distance, he could tell that she walked with purpose, holding a basket as she approached one of the shops. But as she reached out a hand to open the door, her eyes lifted from the road and traveled across the infinitely long and short distance between them to meet his gaze.

Anna recognized him immediately as her mouth fell open in surprise.

He had to leave. John knew he could not have this conversation, not now, not here. Perhaps he could not have it ever.

His knee ached as dipped behind the tree and hurried over to the bus at an impossibly fast pace, climbing into one of the seats just as it began to pull away down the street. The woman on the bench beside him gave him an alarmed look as he pulled the door closed securely behind him. He ignored her and instead twisted his body around to see if he could catch a glimpse of Anna.

She had run to the spot he occupied by the old tree and was turning in circles, her eyes looking in every direction for him, but she paid no attention to the bus. And within seconds, he lost sight of her.

* * *

The bus ride back to Kirbymooreside was blessedly silent as Bates brooded over his mortification.

"That didn't go exactly as planned," his imaginary companion commented wryly, appearing next to him quite suddenly. She took up the space between him and the other woman on the bench who had moved herself as far from him as possible.

Bates glanced over at his vision and noticed her attempting to suppress a smile. Unlike the real Anna, she wore no hat but had on her green maid's uniform, although he could tell the difference even without the out-of-place dress. Her features seemed more muted than they had those months ago when he first started seeing her in London, as though time and longing had softened his memory.

"It isn't funny," he told her, his voice severe.

"It is a little funny. You ran away from her."

"You know I can't run," he grumbled.

"Mister Bates, you may walk with a cane because of your limp, but I am telling you that you very much ran away from her." She added a giggle to her teasing comment, and he gritted his teeth together in embarrassment. Anna would never laugh at him, he thought to himself. But as he had finally come to face, this was not Anna.

"What could I have said to her?" he demanded angrily. "I never should have gone. Now she'll wonder if it was me and why I was there at all."

The vision beside him still looked amused as she said, "You know what I think? I think you wanted her to see you. You wanted her to know that you were close by, keeping an eye on her. But when it came time to face the music for leaving, you couldn't handle it, so you bolted."

Bates frowned at how close to home her words hit. He had gradually come to the full realization that this person was not just his vision of Anna, but rather a manifestation of himself in her image. "What do you know?" he muttered irritably.

"I know everything you know," she answered.

They passed the rest of the ride in silence, but she did not abandon him until the bus returned to Kirbymooreside. When he returned to the room he was renting behind the pub, he found that his employer had left a piece of mail from him. It was from his solicitor in London.

Tearing it open with haste, Bates poured through the Mr. Hinchcliffe's missive. It described Hinchcliffe's service of the legal papers on Vera and her predictable response. The solicitor went on to say that due to the proof they had of her infidelity, it would only be a matter of time, but Vera promised to fight them every step of the way.

_But I have every belief we will prevail in the end, _the solicitor finished the letter. _It will simply take some time._

Time. He had wasted so much of it already. Why hadn't he attempted a divorce years earlier when he'd been released from prison? He had every hope that once Vera got over her pride in being beaten and realized that she would make out better by accepting the money he offered her, that she would let the proceedings go uninterrupted. His wife did not love him; they both knew that. As someone who always operated in her own best interests, he could not fathom her refusing the money just to keep her dubious status as "Mrs. John Bates."

As the days went by, his imaginary Anna visited him less and less frequently. He found that he missed her and yet, she was not quite enough anymore to get him through the lonely days and even lonelier nights. But she still appeared in his dreams from time to time, and he would wake up with his body on fire as he reached in the darkness for someone who was not there.

Bates no longer shied away from such dreams and the thoughts which inevitably accompanied them in the early morning hours, the silence of his rented room behind the pub pressing in on him. His desire for Anna was a natural thing, an extension of his feelings for the woman. And if all went as planned and he was able to secure the divorce in short order, nothing could stop them being together, nothing beyond his own self-doubts and fears.

"So you won't push her away again?" Anna's voice unreal spoke to him from the shadows.

"No, I won't," he affirmed. "I don't think I could if I tried."

"That's assuming she forgives you for leaving."

"Yes, assuming so."

But he had little doubt Anna would hold it against him for long, no matter how much he'd hurt her. He'd seen it in her face when she spotted him in the village. He knew it from the way she'd paused, her eyes going wide with recognition. And he could tell from the way she'd run to the spot he'd just left behind the large tree in the center of the village, looking around for him as he spied her through the back window of the bus back to Kirbymooreside.

While Bates hated leaving her there with no information, he was not yet ready to withstand her inevitable confrontation. After all, he had not planned to see her until the divorce was finalized. The fact that she'd seen him was unfortunate, but he hoped that she might consider him a figment of her own imagination, conjured by a mind still hoping he might appear.

"We don't know anyone who would do that, now do we?" his vision of Anna asked with good humor.

"Am I going mad?" he asked her.

The fact that he was visited by visions of a lost love did not unnerve him so much as the realization that he'd never before contemplated that question. He'd conversed with her more than any real person in his time away from Downton. Perhaps he had taken leave of his senses.

"You're lonely," she answered, her sympathy as apparent as her love. "You have been for a very long time. And she was the only one who has ever made you feel like you weren't alone."

Before Bates drifted back to sleep, his imaginary Anna said one last thing. "What you don't realize is that you make her feel the same way."

* * *

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry I haven't posted this earlier, but I've been on vacation. This chapter is the last of this story. I ended up extending it a bit further than I anticipated because of some of your lovely reviews, but as it was intended to connect certain points in time, I felt it important to go ahead and wrap things up. Thanks as always to the amazing folks who leave reviews and PM me their thoughts. I always love hearing from you.**

* * *

Need filled him, flowing like water through the deep fissures of his being, finding all the nooks and cracks. The flow washed away his worry and made him forget for a time the past which anchored him so thoroughly into his notion of unworthiness. For a time, he was the most base form of himself, made up of nothing but his thoughts and feelings and desires.

And she was there with him. Her skin was as pale as moonlight, untouched by the sun and by other men's hands, based on the blush which colored her cheeks at his appraising glance. But she did not shy away as he reached for her. Instead, she moved forward to meet him, showing no hesitation as her naked skin met his a second after their lips collided.

John kissed her gently, teasing and exploring, wanting to share pleasure with her more than to take it. The way she mirrored his kiss indicated that she intended the same. And for a time, they lost themselves in each other, as if a kiss could be an expression of not just physical desire but the deepest, most pure love ever felt.

She shifted against him, and his arousal grew. A kiss would never be enough to satisfy him, not when she came to him, unclothed and obviously willing. She betrayed no shame in her state of undress, so he ignored the nagging thread of his own. After all - she looked on him without fear or disgust. In fact, she seemed rather pleased with his form and for the first time in many years, John felt a sense of pride in being able to inspire that look in a woman's eyes. As a young man, he'd turned many female heads. But not since Vera... not since he'd left Africa...

Thoughts of his circumstances came crashing back to him, and John's sense of peace in the moment evaporated. He knew she shouldn't be here, that what they were doing was wrong for her. But she clearly wanted him, with every fiber of her being. She moved to embrace him without timidity and reveled in the simple feel of them together.

"I love you, Mister Bates," she offered, and the words were from memory, not conjured by his mind. The woman before him was the woman he'd known these past years, whose love he knew he could never deserve. But he had it anyway. And she loved him, for whatever she saw in him, whatever her reasons, she loved _him_.

"Anna," he sighed her name, the closest thing to a prayer he'd spoken in many years. And for the first time, he truly allowed himself to enjoy her closeness, her warmth and her smile, which reminded him of sunshine in a dark and hollow place. Her presence alone was enough to make everything that much better, that much more real.

When John awoke, he did so gradually, with the soft glow of the dream still surrounding him. He knew he would not find Anna asleep next to him, but he was not weighed down by crushing disappointment.

"Did you sleep well?" his shadow asked him. She stepped forward and sat on the edge of his bed, clothed in Anna's night gown, her blonde hair pulled into a similar braid. He knew it wasn't her, not really. But still, she looked lovely.

"Yes."

"You dreamed of her."

John shook his head. "It wasn't a dream. I think... I think it was a vision of the future."

Smirking at his statement, she asked, "So you can predict the future now?"

"I can if she is with me."

"And what does this future hold?" his Anna-like construct asked.

He thought for a moment, attempting to put into words the supremely peaceful feeling he'd found in the dream. Anna's love had a way of salving inner wounds and healing them so easily that he could no longer see the faint scars.

"It holds her," John answered finally.

"You aren't worried about ruining her life any more?"

"Of course I'm worried," he responded. "I will always worry about that. But I think I'm ready to try despite my fear. And I think it is what she would want from me."

The imaginary woman beside him smiled gently. "I think she does too."

* * *

"She may yet find you here, you know," his vision told him as he got dressed for work that morning. Serving drinks at the pub was not the same as being valet to an earl, but he still took pride in his clothing. He made certain that his shirts were unwrinkled and his shoes shined. At the suggestion of Anna locating him at the pub, he took a bit more care in making certain his collar was straight and stiff.

Finally, he answered, "That would be very much like her."

Perhaps it was what he wanted, deep down, after he'd allowed her to see him in the village.

"You wouldn't be angry, if she found you out?"

"I'm not sure if I could ever be angry at her," he said truthfully, "and especially not over something like that. I'd be more worried that she'd track me down simply to tell me off - that she wants nothing to do with me and to leave her alone."

The vision narrowed her eyes at him in a very Anna-like expression as she folded her arms over her chest. "Do you think that likely?"

"Not likely, but possible. She has every right to hate me for what I've put her through. And if not for the feelings in her heart, she would know how foolish it is to want a life with me."

John felt as though he stood on top of a mountain, looking down on where he'd been before. For so long, he'd been climbing this hill, tripping and scraping over rocks and roots, desperate to see himself over to the other side. But now that he was here and could look down at his achievement of understanding, he realized that there was not just one mountain. Beyond this crest was another and beyond it, another still. While he finally felt secure in his decision to seek Anna's hand in marriage after divorcing Vera, he still had other hurdles to face and other mountains of understanding to climb.

"What would you do if she rejected you?" His imaginary Anna asked the question softly, even though they both knew such a thing would be unlikely. "Would you stay and fight for her or would you leave?"

Having not considered the question before, he paused for a moment to consider. His first instinct would be to go far away. If Anna wanted him gone, he would not complicate her life by staying. As much as he needed her to exist properly, he could not force his presence on her, not if she said she did not want him.

And yet, Anna deserved someone willing to fight for her, to fight for the opportunity to be with her. He could not do it until the divorce came through, but perhaps when he was a free man... John might court her properly. He'd have little enough money to spend on her, but if he could find a second job to supplement his income from the Red Lion...

The vision next to him said what he was already thinking. "She doesn't want what money can buy."

He sighed. "She deserves beautiful things. Clothes, hats, jewelry. A beautiful wedding, if not in a church, then somewhere nice. With my mother's inheritance, I could have offered that. If I give it all to Vera, I'll have so little to offer Anna. Only-"

"Only yourself," she completed for him. "And that's all she wants - you."

With one last look in the mirror at the middle aged man staring back at him, John turned back to her. "If I ever believe she truly did not want me, I would not stay and complicate her life. I'd remove myself properly and never return."

She stared back at him, and in her eyes he saw a mixture of both himself and the woman he so desperately wanted to marry.

"Could you really live without her?" she asked.

With a sigh, he looked away. "I have been, for many months. I exist only on hope. Without that, I don't know..."

He'd tasted the food of the underworld, and now he could never leave. Except, if he was cast out, he would forever crave it, finding no sustenance elsewhere. That was his life without Anna - full of yearning without sation. Dreams of burning passion that brought him naught but a cold bed and empty arms. Days in which he spoke to no one but the construct his mind created of a woman he could not have.

"I hope I never have to find out."

* * *

Bates heard the bell on the door jingle as his back was turned, pouring a customer another drink. The sound registered in his subconscious with a silent sigh. On the one hand, he appreciated the work. But on the other, he was due for a break and his knee could really use a rest after standing for so many hours behind the bar.

When he turned, the figure of a woman caught his eye. Female patrons had been more common in London than Kirbymooreside but they were not unheard of here.

He was counting out change for the customer when his mind recognized exactly which woman was standing there, staring at him as though _he _was a figment of _her _imagination. And he knew in that moment that she was real - a flesh and blood person and not the vision his mind had been conjuring all these months.

"Might I have a glass of cider?" she asked nervously by way of greeting, even before the other patron had moved from the counter.

Hearing the uncertainty in her voice, Bates could not help but smile. She looked so different than he'd been imagining her. Her hair was curlier, and she sported a new hat, the one he'd seen her wearing in the village. But beneath the clothes and the changed hair style, she was very much the same person. To say she was a vision of beauty would have been an understatement.

And she was there, standing in front of him. She'd found him. Despite him leaving her to return with Vera to London, she'd deliberately sought him out and now stood at attention, apparently waiting to hear what he had to say for himself.

"I don't know if I've dreaded this moment or longed for it," he confessed truthfully. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he sensed his imaginary Anna rolling her eyes at his dubious statement. _Tell her you love her_, the voice advised him.

_Perhaps I will_, he responded. John could no longer keep up any other pretense. She was the love of his life, and perhaps he was hers as well. He owed it to her to fight for their love, for their future. He could not take his eyes from her as he waited for a response.

The real Anna regarded him for half a second before saying severely, "Well, either way, it's happened."

The unconcealed hurt and anger in her expression pulled at him, and John felt chastened for considering only himself in their meeting. She had obviously gone to a great deal of effort to find him and to come and see him.

"I can take a break if you'd like to sit down and talk..." he began, but Anna was already nodding in agreement. He signaled to the other bartender that he would be stepping away from the bar, and the other man's eyes shifted between him and Anna before he wordlessly took John's place.

As he led her to an empty table, he wondered how he could possibly explain himself. Leaving Anna the way he'd done, while necessary in his own mind, could never be justified to her, not without divulging the story Vera threatened to tell to the papers. And that scandal was one he had no intention of giving voice, especially not to Anna, who stood to lose so much if such allegations became public.

Instead, he spoke of his plans and efforts to secure the divorce from Vera. He made the case for himself as simply as he could, knowing that ultimately, she had to decide if he was worthy of a second chance with her affections. But he needn't have worried.

"You've changed your hair," he observed, quickly changing the subject to something more pleasant.

She seemed pleased that he'd noticed, although the explanation was truly utilitarian. But then she added a simple question with her half shrug. "What do you think?"

He thought she looked beautiful, no matter the state of her hair. He loved it up in a bun or down in a braid. He knew from limited experience that the pale yellow strands were soft as silk as they threaded through his fingers.

Wanting to tell her... _needing_ to tell her how he felt - for once, John refused to censor himself. Even though he was not truly free of Vera yet, Anna deserved to know his real feelings. And he deserved the chance to tell her.

"I think I'd love you however, whatever, whenever."

No matter her clothes or her hair or any other superficial distinction, he would love her. Her pure sweetness shone through like unearthly light and it drove away the dark shadows of John's past. He did love her, more than he'd ever loved anyone before. He felt certain that he'd always love her, the emotion taking root in him like a clinging vine wrapped around his heart, squeezing until he could no longer breath from the intensity of it.

Anna's eyes filled with tears at his statement. Quickly, she offered, "We don't have to wait, you know. If you want me to throw up everything and come with you, I will. Gladly."

_I'd live in sin with you._

The offer was the same even if the words had changed. He could not face that prospect, not when he had to look himself in the mirror every morning. Attempting to play off her offer, he managed, "I can't marry you yet- not legally. And I won't break the law."

Cocking her head to one side, Anna said succinctly, "It's not against the law to take a mistress, Mr. Bates."

As she took his hand and offered him a shy smile, he struggled to recover himself. His mistress. She'd just offered to be his mistress. After proposing to her and leaving within a few days to rejoin his lawful wife in London, after so many months of staying away, only to surreptitiously watch her in the village... After putting her through so much, she not only still wanted to be with him, but she'd ruin herself to do it.

John could not take Anna as his mistress. As much as his consciousness had struggled through long and lonely nights at the torturous thoughts of being with her, he'd rather end his days a lonely old fool with a shrew of a wife than to do that to Anna. The way she suggested it, he wondered if she thought he only sought a physical relationship. In truth, he did desire her, more than he had any right to, but to suggest that was the depth of what was between them was completely untruthful. He loved her more than he'd ever loved anyone, more than he had ever thought it possible to love.

And it was finally time for him to say it.

"I know you, Anna Smith, and I love you, and that is not the right path for you." As he said the words, he watched her eyes go wide as she struggled not to react to the varying levels in his statement - surprise, disappointment, desperation. Quickly, he added, "It won't be long now."

He could see tears in her eyes as she nodded in acceptance. She would wait for him, so that they could be together properly. Months before, he could not have allowed that sort of sacrifice from her, not to be with the likes of him. But after their separation, after struggling to live apart from her a life that was so devoid of meaning his mind conjured her, he knew he had to accept that sacrifice. The tortured expression she wore betrayed that she felt the same for him. And while he would never deserve her, he could endeavor to give her every conceivable happiness.

* * *

That evening, after closing up the pub and making his way back to his room for the evening, John felt the strange quietness of his vision's absence. He had not seen her since Anna - the real Anna - appeared at the pub that afternoon. Having neither heard her voice or glimpsed her out of the corner of his eye, he'd begun to wonder if she'd finally left him.

As the thought crossed his mind, he waited anxiously to see if she would appear and make some tart reply as she did on occasion. But only stillness greeted him - a surety he had not felt before. Anna still loved him, and she would wait until he could secure the divorce from Vera. Beyond waiting, she loved him to the point of ruining herself as his mistress. While he knew such feelings from her should alarm his mind, they brought him a sense of peace and tranquility.

They would be together. Because Anna wished it so, he would make it happen. For her. For himself. For their future.

Somewhere deep inside of him, an inner voice which he had ignored for far too long breathed a sigh of relief.

_fin_


End file.
